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by Mark Mayfield
 The
secret to a happy marriage:
avoid apricot cobbler
Okay, fellas, it's time to gather around the ol' newspaper
for another of Mark's Valuable Tips for Maintaining Domestic
Tranquility. Of course, if you're reading this column on the
Internet, you should gather around the ol' computer monitor.
And if you're a psychic who's reading this column directly from
my mind, you should STOP IT IMMEDIATELY because you're really
giving me the creeps!
Anyway, here's today's wise advice: Never, ever make apricot
cobbler with your wife or girlfriend. I realize that by including
the word "girlfriend" in my wise advice, I'm offending
readers who are disgusted by the risky behavior of many young
singles who casually hop from kitchen to kitchen, eagerly engaging
in premarital cooking activities with members of the opposite
sex. However, I also realize that such behavior has been common
since young singles were invented back in the early 1980's, and
that all kids occasionally do stupid things in
the kitchen. Heck, even I have a few skeletons
in my pantry.
On a cold February night many years ago, before my wife and I
were married, we got a little carried away in her kitchen. Her
parents weren't home at the time, and we were just standing by
the oven, drinking hot chocolate and engaging in innocent small
talk. Suddenly, she reached out and playfully caressed a bottle
of vanilla extract. Smiling nervously, I opened a cupboard and
tenderly rested my hand on a 5-pound bag of flour. She seductively
tossed back her beautiful hair and lovingly removed a stick of
butter from the refrigerator. I awkwardly fondled the baking
powder. Giggling like nervous school kids, we both reached for
the brown sugar. My fingers brushed against hers. She then placed
a large mixing bowl on the counter, looked longingly into my
eyes and suggestively whispered, "Are you thinking what
I'm thinking?" Overcome with desire, I replied, "Oh,
yes, baby! I want to make chocolate-chip cookies with you!"
Unable to control ourselves, we frantically ripped open the bag
of semi-sweet chocolate morsels and breathlessly groped for measuring
cups. What followed was more than an hour of the best premarital
cooking I've ever experienced. Of course, I'm not proud of my
behavior on that long-ago winter night, but I shared the story
to make this point: Although we made a terrible mistake, my wife
and I are now happily married, and we still enjoy making chocolate-chip
cookies together on a regular basis.
But apricot cobbler isn't like chocolate-chip cookies. It isn't
naughty, dangerous or exciting. It's too wholesome to arouse
uncontrollable feelings of passionate desire. Instead, it can
cause serious problems in the kitchen. To prove my point, I will
now share another personal experience.
Thanks to an unusually generous crop from our two apricot trees,
my family recently had more apricots than we knew what to do
with. (In previous years, greedy fruit-eating birds ruined the
apricots before I had a chance to harvest them. But this year,
I fooled the birds by posting a sign that says, "Attention,
Birds! Please eat these apricots, because they contain a powerful
muscle relaxant that will temporarily eliminate your ability
to fly, making you easy prey for hundreds of bird-eating cats
that patrol this area.")
My wife suggested using some of the apricots to make cobbler,
but our only recipe book, "325 Timesaving Wiener Recipes
For Busy Families," doesn't include desserts. Fortunately,
the Internet does include desserts, and a quick
search for "apricot cobbler" produced dozens of recipes.
(Warning: Before using any search engine, activate the "offensive
content" filter. If you don't, your search results may include
several pornographic apricot cobbler websites.)
After choosing a relatively simple recipe, we began our first
attempt at making apricot cobbler. Despite my good intentions,
the endeavor quickly turned ugly. As I playfully washed and fondled
the apricots, my wife told me to "Stop fooling around!"
After I seductively tossed back my beautiful hair and lovingly
removed a stick of butter from the refrigerator, she impatiently
grabbed it from my hand and said, "Hurry up!" As I
tenderly mixed the cinnamon, sugar and nutmeg topping, she asked,
"Why are you acting so weird?" Finally, when I looked
longingly into her eyes and suggestively asked, "Are you
thinking what I'm thinking?" she replied, "Yes! Get
out of the kitchen so I finish making the apricot cobbler!"
That's when I came up with today's Valuable Tip for Maintaining
Domestic Tranquility.
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